


'Til the end of time

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Word of the day [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable Derek, Adorable Derek Hale, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Complete, Derek Has Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Paediatrician Derek Hale, Series, Stiles-centric, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Toymaker Stiles Stilinski, Toys, Watchmaker Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows that watchmaking is a dying business, even in spite of the recent rise of steampunk fashion. Hell, he uses his phone to check the time now, despite the brilliantly designed watch that he faithfully wears on his wrist every day. Still, he loves his job, loves being able to take things apart, and find out what makes things work. It gives him something real and tangible to focus on, to take something broken, pull it apart, set out all of the cogs and wheels in a way that makes sense to him, only to put it all back together again and have something working and whole again. Working in horology gives him peace and stillness in a way that his Adderall never has, and Stiles wouldn't trade it for the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til the end of time

**Author's Note:**

> Horology, _noun_. The art or science of making timepieces or of measuring time.

Stiles knows that watchmaking is a dying business, even in spite of the recent rise of steampunk fashion. Hell, he uses his phone to check the time now, despite the brilliantly designed watch that he faithfully wears on his wrist every day. Still, he loves his job, loves being able to take things apart, and find out what makes things work. It gives him something real and tangible to focus on, to take something broken, pull it apart, set out all of the cogs and wheels in a way that makes sense to him, only to put it all back together again and have something working and whole again. Working in horology gives him peace and stillness in a way that his Adderall never has, and Stiles wouldn't trade it for the world.

His shop is a tiny thing that he can barely afford the rent for, tucked away in a small alley in Beacon Hills' main street. He puts out a sign every day, but his visitors are so few that it's always a surprise when he hears the tinkling of the bell on his doorframe. This time is no exception, and Stiles almost falls off his stool when he hears the door open and the bell tinkle cheerfully.

He looks out of his workroom, pushing his magnifying glasses up on top of his head to check that someone has come in and it wasn't a product of his imagination. It's a real person, an actual customer if the way they're waiting uncertainly is any indication (or he might need the bathroom, Stiles has trouble telling the difference sometimes, most memorably to the utter frustration of a poor five-year-old and their mother), but the man looks ... well, to put it frankly, he looks absolutely gorgeous, and Stiles thinks for a minute that maybe he is a product of his imagination after all.

"Hi, you repair watches?" the man asks, looking adorably cute and confused.

"Yes. Yes, that's what I do. I do that. Uh. Hi, I'm Stiles," he introduces, hurrying out and sticking his hand out to shake.

"Derek," he replies, shaking Stiles' hand.

"So, you have a watch that needs repairing?" Stiles asks, smiling brightly.

Derek's expression kind of falls and he brings out a watch from his pocket. It's a woman's watch, gold rimmed but fairly dusty from what Stiles can see, and the screen is smashed. He takes the offered watch from Derek, brushing a few remnants of dust off the face of the watch so he can see if he can repair it. Sometimes the damage is too much and it's easier just to replace the watch completely. It means losing business, but Stiles doesn't want to cheat any potential customers either.

"Your wife must be quite upset with you, Derek," Stiles murmured, seeing the hint of engraving on the back of the watch face and realising that it was probably important to someone just as important to Derek.

"My wife? Oh, no, I'm not married. The watch belonged to my mother. She left it to my sister, and I wanted to repair it in time for her birthday."

Stiles is a sucker for a sappy story, and he knows it. He can't help himself from nodding and offering Derek another smile.

"I'll see what I can do. When is your sister's birthday?"

Derek winces now, and Stiles suddenly has a bad feeling about this.

"Next weekend."

Stiles almost whimpers at the thought. He cleans off the dust on the watch and his eyes widen and then he really does whimper.

"A week and a half to repair a manual Chopard dial watch?"

"A what?" Derek asks in confusion.

"1970s Chopard through Tiffany & Co. Manual wind, 18 karat yellow gold. Man, your dad must've loved your mum, and been hella rich."

"Yeah, he did love her," Derek murmurs, looking at the watch fondly, and Stiles feels like the epitome of an insensitive jerk.

"Shit, I'm so sorry. I'll have it done in time for your sister's birthday, I promise. Just, uh, if I can get you to leave your name and phone number, I'll contact you when it's done," Stiles says, offering Derek a notepad and pen.

This is the part he kind of hates, but he's been screwed over before, so he knows that he has to get it over and done with.

"Can I get a deposit? Nothing big, I swear, just like... Five bucks or something, just so I know you'll come back for the watch. People've left broken watches and things with me before and I put a lot of work and effort in to repairing them, and then they just never come back. Makes me think of dogs at the vet's and stuff, and I should know about that 'cause my best friend's a vet. Not that I'm saying you're going to leave the watch and run, but I can't be too careful, and it's going to be expensive to repair this in time."

Throughout all of this, Derek writes his name and phone number down on the notepad, pulls out a $50 note, and puts it in front of Stiles before he simply waits with an amused expression, waiting for Stiles' words to run out or the sinewy man to faint from not breathing. Whichever came first.

Stiles heaves oxygen back into his lungs, his face going bright red when he sees Derek watching him. "Uh. Sorry, that happens sometimes. Thank you for your details, and your business. Just lemme get your change," he offers, turning to the till.

"Consider it my deposit. Don't worry about any expenses, I'm happy to pay whatever it takes to repair that watch," Derek adds with a brief smile.

"Really?" Stiles asks, his brain still caught on getting a whole fifty as a deposit, not even processing the 'happy to pay whatever it takes' part of Derek's offer.

"Sure; I'm hella rich," Derek says and actually  _winks_  at him before he leaves the shop.

Stiles stands there with the watch in one hand, the fifty in the other, and his heart pounding wildly between.

...

He starts working immediately, and Stiles tells himself that it has nothing to do with Derek, and everything to do with this beauty of a watch, the story behind it, and the future one he's hoping to give it. When he finishes cleaning the watch, smashed glass and all, Stiles can read the engraving clearly ( _I'll love you 'til the end of time_ ; he does not cry), and he starts to carefully unscrew the lugs that attach the bracelet to the watch itself. He takes a moment to admire the chapter ring - Roman numerals aren't used very often on modern watches, and it's something that Stiles misses from the old watch designs.

Stiles is methodical in the way he works, and he can lose himself to his processes and work when he gets too caught up in it. He doesn't really consider it a bad thing, even though he might miss a meal or two. Today seems to be one of those times, and after he's set out every single cog and piece of the watch and cleaned them to his own satisfaction, Stiles looks up from his work to see that it's past 10pm.

"Shit, the sign," Stiles groans, scrambling to get off the stool, and then stops and groans again because  _owwww_.

He feels stiff as a board, so he takes a moment to stretch, and then runs outside to get his sign. There's a post-it attached to the sign, a not-so-friendly reminder from Mr. Kitsch two shops down that his sign is a hazard at night and shouldn't be on the pedestrian footpath.  _Again_. (Kitsch's sign is even bigger than Stiles' one, and it takes up half the footpath, so screw him  _and_  his post-it.)

"I'm aware of that, Mr. Kitsch. Thank you very much, Mr. Kitsch!" Stiles growls under his breath.

He hefts the sign up, almost catches his fingers between the frame, and half-lifts, half-drags the thing down towards his shop, cursing at the sign the whole way.

"Do you need help with that?"

Stiles screams and turns with some sort of flailing motion, almost catching his fingers in the A-frame for the second time that night. Derek is standing on the footpath, hands raised in a 'I come in peace and I'm not here to murder you in your shop's alleyway' sort of motion.

"What the hell, dude? You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?" Stiles asks, and he belatedly realises he shouldn't be berating and swearing at his brand new customer and clamps his mouth shut.

Derek just grins, and has the decency to look a little embarrassed. "I just finished work, and I saw that your sign was still out when I drove past. I thought I'd see if you were okay."

Over his shoulder, Stiles can see a sleek black car parked nearby, and holy shit, Derek wasn't joking about being hella rich.

"I'm fine. Thanks for checking. I've just got to get this inside, and I'm good to go," Stiles said, patting the metal sign awkwardly.

"I can carry it, if you'd like? To make up for me scaring the shit out of you," Derek adds, grinning again.

"All right. Uh, thanks."

Derek grabs the sign and lifts it with ease, and Stiles wants to mutter about how unfair it is, but he's hungry and wants to go home sooner rather than later. He heads down to the shop with Derek following him quietly, opens the door and instructs Derek where to put the sign so it won't fall and disrupt his clocks or watch display. Stiles grabs his bag, makes sure the lights are turned off, he has his phone, keys, wallet, and goes back out to the shop.

Derek's waiting for him, looking at the cuckoo clock like he's tempted to change the time to see it work, and Stiles grins at the sight. He's seen the same expression on children when they come in with their parents, and he usually changes it just to see their eyes light up in wonder at the sight. He wonders if Derek would have the same expression as the children, and is tempted to change the clock just to find out.

"Where do you work, to be finishing at this time?" Stiles asks instead, ushering Derek outside and hopes he can't hear his stomach rumbling.

"Beacon Hills Memorial; just started this week in fact."

"You're the pretty paediatrician?" Stiles asks before he can help himself.

"The...  _What?_ " Derek asks, blinking.

"Oh, uh... my friend, the vet? His mum works at the hospital, and she said that a new paediatrician started this week and he was very handsome. Um... She's not wrong?" Stiles offers, weak from hunger and wishing he had food just so he'd  _stop talking already_.

"Well. That's not the worst thing I've been called, I suppose," Derek mutters. "It's nice to know you agree with her," he adds, grinning at Stiles with a slight blush on his cheeks.

 _Holy crap, they're flirting. Right, that's what this is, isn't it? Fuck, he hasn't flirted with anyone since ... Danny, fucking hell. That attempt at flirting was a complete disaster from start to finish_.

"Melissa also said that you're one of the best paediatricians that Beacon Hills has ever had, and we're lucky to have you, and I agree with her on that too," Stiles says quickly, letting it all out in a rush of breath.

 _His hands are sweating a ridiculous amount, are they meant to sweat this much? Shit_.

Derek just looks pleased at Stiles' admission, and blushes again, and he's too freaking cute for words. Stiles is so busy admiring him that he almost walks into his Jeep.

"Uh, so... This is me. I'd better get home and eat something before I resort to eating the scented tree. Strawberries and cream was a seriously bad decision," Stiles jokes.

Derek laughs, soft and amused, and he actually looks sincere in his amusement. That's a rare response for Stiles, actually.

"Enjoy your dinner, Stiles."

"Yeah, thanks, I will. Uh, also, thanks for helping me out with the sign. It's old and heavy as fuck. Well, it is for me at least; you seemed to be fine with it," Stiles adds quickly, and he wants to hit his head against Roscoe because he has no brain-to-mouth filter when he's this tired and hungry, and this is almost as bad as that time with Danny.

"What time do you usually open and close the shop?" Derek asks.

"8am 'til 6pm, Monday to Friday," Stiles replies automatically. "Try to be open early and late for the people that work 9 to 5, or any variation between," he adds.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 7:45 then," Derek says.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"I'll help you with the sign. I don't want you to hurt your hands," Derek adds, and it might be something he imagines, but Stiles thinks that he's  _not_  referring to him using his hands for his job.

"Y-yeah. Okay."

"Good night, Stiles."

"Good night, Derek."

...

Stiles might take a little extra time to choose his outfit the next morning, but it has nothing to do with Derek. ( _Who's he kidding? It has everything to do with Derek._ ) He arrives at the shop at 7:30 as usual, gets his normal routine started with his computer, unlocks the till, and organises his tools and jobs for the day.

One of the parents at the vet's had seen his wind-up toys he'd created for Scott and Allison's baby boy and commissioned some for her son as well. He's already made an owl, is halfway through a rabbit, and has a wolf to create to complete the set. It's a fun job that he thinks may even be profitable if she recommends his work to her friends. Not that he doesn't love his job and his shop, but bringing in enough money to pay for his shop and his food would be a nice thing to happen every month.

There's a knock at the shop's door at 7:45 on the dot (a few of the clocks go off at the quarter to mark, joyfully announcing Derek's punctuality; it's something that Stiles can totally appreciate), and Stiles lets Derek inside with a smile. Derek smiles back at him, looking just as good as Stiles remembers, and he notices his glance to the cuckoo clock again.

"Morning, Stiles."

"Morning. How are you?"

"Not bad. You?"

"I'd kill for coffee, but otherwise I'm good."

Derek chuckles and nods as if he completely understands. "It is a bit earlier in the day than I usually start."

"What? You mean you came all this way for a sign? You should be sleeping."

"I don't sleep much, it's all right," Derek replies, shrugging. "Sign goes in the same spot as yesterday?" he asks, grabbing the sign and lifting it with ease.

"Yes. Please. Thank you," Stiles calls as Derek leaves.

He feels like shit, because he hadn't even thought about Derek's shift as a doctor -  _he probably didn't have to get up for another four hours or something! Crap_.

Stiles continues to work on the wind-up rabbit while he waits for Derek to return, and it's only when he hears the clocks go off at 8am that he realises Derek hasn't returned yet. Frowning, Stiles goes to the front door to check that he hasn't accidentally locked Derek out or something, just in time to see Derek returning with a tray of coffee in hand.

"I didn't ask what kind of coffee you liked, so I got black with... well, everything on the side," Derek says, cheeks a little red as he offers the tray to Stiles.

There's four milk capsules, two creamer packets, both white and raw sugar, as well as artificial sweetener, and both a plastic spoon and a wooden stirrer.

"Holy shit. I... seriously did not expect you to get this, Derek. Thank you so much!"

Derek shrugs, take one of the black coffees and drinks it straight. Stiles dumps all of the sugar and two of the milk capsules into his cup, stirs it with the wooden stirrer and slurps his drink noisily.

"What's that?" Derek asks, leaning to peer down at the rabbit.

"Rabbit. Well, it will be when I'm finished," Stiles amends.

"That's really amazing. Do you keep the stomach clear to see the cogs?" Derek queries, his fingers twitching like he's desperate to play with the toy.

"I haven't decided. I kept the owl clear," he murmurs, heading back into his workroom to bring the owl out. "Here, try it out."

Derek's eyebrows raise. "You don't mind?"

"Nah, go ahead. I need to see if it works anyway."

Derek sets his coffee down carefully, his big fingers careful with the delicate toy as he winds the key at the back and sets it down on the countertop. Stiles watches Derek's expression as the owl flaps its wings to the side and does its weird little hop along the counter. He looks so utterly amazed and awed, and it's such a raw and childlike expression that it makes Stiles want to bundle him up and never let him go again. Derek looks as though he hasn't had much wonder in his life, and Stiles wants to give him every piece of joy that he can. He doesn't know much about Derek, especially not enough to make an assumption like that, but Stiles knows sadness all too well, and it's etched across Derek's face as plain to him as the tools on his workbench.

"The kids at the hospital would love these. It's beautiful, Stiles," Derek murmurs, picking up the owl delicately and passing it back to him.

"Thank you. I really do try my best with kids' toys. I love being able to make kids happy."

"Same here," Derek admits with a soft breath of laughter, kind of amused but sad at the same time.

Stiles wants to say something, ask what happened to make him so sad, but Derek's phone goes off, and he gives Stiles a quick apologetic smile as he answers the call and steps outside. Taking the owl and rabbit back to his workroom, Stiles sets them down carefully and finishes his coffee.

"Stiles? Sorry, but I have to go. Emergency at the hospital," Derek adds.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks again for helping, and the coffee," Stiles says, grinning.

Derek grins back at him, nods, and jogs off towards his car.

Stiles sets an alarm so he'll remember to have lunch, and then gets to work.

...

Stiles snoozed his alarm so many times that it must have turned itself off at some point. Or he just turned it off, whatever. But he's missed lunch and his head is aching by the time he finishes the rabbit and has made progress on the wolf. The rabbit hops in a manner similar to the owl, but the wolf is his favourite: he's managed to make it pounce and if he can get the wiring right, the eyes of all three animals will glow blue.

He calls a nearby takeaway store to get a late lunch, puts up the 'back in half an hour' sign up, locks the door, and leaves for a very important and tasty date with a bag of curly fries. He's in the process of inhaling his lunch and licking the salt off his fingers when he returns to his little alleyway and sees Derek waiting outside. Stiles is surprised, but gives a wave and walks down a little quicker, offering his bag of fries to Derek.

"What're you doing back so soon?" Stiles asks curiously when Derek shakes his head to the fries. "Everything okay with that emergency?"

"She's fine. Barely, but she's alive and she'll be fine. I... I needed some time, and this... your store is calming. Can I just come inside and sit down for a while?" Derek pleads.

"Sure thing. You're more than welcome," Stiles promises, wiping off his hand on his jeans before fishing his key out of his pocket to open the door.

He guides Derek to the workroom, sits him down on his chair while he drags his counter chair across so he can chat with Derek and finish his fries. Derek seems content to just sit there quietly and let Stiles talk, and Stiles is pretty happy with that himself. It can get lonely during the day, and it's nice to have someone to talk to, even if they don't always respond.

Once he's finished eating, Stiles washes his hands thoroughly, scrubs the salt and grease off, and they swap seats so he can continue working. He slips into a quieter mode while he works, and Derek just watches him, his fingers nimble as he uses his tweezers to move the smallest of cogs into place carefully.

Stiles has almost finished the wolf by the end of the day when Derek goes to bring the sign inside. He comes back and pulls Stiles away before he can work through the night again.

"How do you feel about meatloaf?" Stiles asks when they arrive at his car.

"The singer or the food?"

"Food," Stiles replies, grinning.

"Love it."

"I've got frozen meatloaf thawing at home. Would you be interested in joining me?" he asks, really hoping that he's not reading too much into this, only to be wrong.

"Very interested," Derek answers, and he smiles brightly before he tugs Stiles close to kiss him firmly.

Stiles smiles into the kiss, wraps his arms around Derek's neck, and kisses him back just as eagerly. They let go of each other long enough to get to their respective cars, Derek following Stiles home. They don't get to the meatloaf until the early hours of the morning, and when they're finished eating, Derek pulls Stiles close to kiss him again and cuddle him until morning.

...

Stiles is still smiling to himself halfway through the next day, and he almost misses the sound of the door's bell tinkling. It's too early for Derek to have finished his shift, so Stiles puts on his professional face and goes out to greet his customer.

It's the woman from the vet, the one who commissioned him for the wind-up toys, and she doesn't look happy. From the way she's directing her expression at him, Stiles can tell that somehow, he's to blame for her unhappiness. She waves a piece of paper in his face, his bill for the work he's done, and almost whacks his nose with the force of her motion.

"How  _dare_  you  _charge me_  for these! They were at the vet's office freely, and there was nothing about a price when we discussed them!"

"Ma'am, we talked about the prices before I even agreed to the commission," Stiles replies, confused.

"I thought that's how much I could sell them for!" she says sharply, then sighs heavily as if Stiles is stupid and beneath her. "I'll still take them off your hands. Just think of the promotion you'll get by giving them to me," she adds, voice smarmy and Stiles barely refrains from visibly recoiling from the woman.

"No, thank you. I have put a lot of work and effort into these toys, and I am not willing to give them to you for free. I apologise for any misunderstanding, ma'am."

Her face changes from smarmy and smug to repulsed and angry in half a second, and she storms out of the shop, slamming the door behind her. Stiles sighs in frustration at time wasted and money lost, rubs his hands over his face, and goes back to Derek's watch.

...

As soon as he hears what happens, Derek offers to buy the wind-up toys from him. Stiles refuses, not wanting his pity or charity, but Derek wears him down, saying that the kids at the hospital need something new to keep them entertained, and he'll pay anything Stiles asks - the exact amount he'd charged that horrible woman, double, triple, he doesn't care, so long as he gets them.

Stiles tells him the commission price, and Derek pulls it out of his wallet immediately, putting the money on the counter while Stiles carefully wraps up the three toys. Derek really does look genuine about his excitement at getting the toys, and Stiles wonders if he has enough material left over to make something specially for Derek.

Derek thanks him with a heated kiss, and they hurry to close up the shop for the night, Stiles almost tripping over his own feet in an effort to get to the car that much sooner. Derek laughs and helps him along, arms linked as they go to his Camaro together, and drive back to Stiles' apartment.

They fall into a routine: Derek goes with Stiles to the shop in the morning, puts the sign out, comes back with coffee, relaxes before his shift at the hospital, then when Stiles has finished for the night, Derek brings the sign back in and they close up together. Sometimes they go to the apartment, desperate for each other, but other times they're exhausted and can do little more but sit in front of the TV and doze off together. Derek likes to read at night when he's not too tired, and Stiles tries to occupy his brain with Sudoku until it's time for bed when he can cocoon himself inside of Derek's embrace and fall asleep.

Derek invites Stiles to his sister's birthday party, and he agrees immediately, eager to see her reaction to the watch. It's finally finished, wrapped and waiting for Laura's birthday. Saturday arrives, and Stiles is surprised at how nervous he is to meet Derek's family. His sisters are lovely, his uncle's creepy, but throughout the day, Derek's by his side and that makes up for everything else. Laura starts crying when she opens Derek's gift, and when Derek announces that Stiles rebuilt it, Laura pulls him into a hug and cries on his shoulder. Stiles kind of cries as well, but everyone's nice enough not to mention it.

Stiles takes Derek to meet his father, Scott, and Allison on Sunday. Scott and Allison are pleasantly surprised by Derek's demeanour, even though they'd already heard Melissa's praises over the past few weeks. Even his father is pleasant towards Derek, and all three deem Derek suitable and worthy to date Stiles. Derek looks adorably pleased at their acceptance of him, and kisses Stiles happily.

Ever since they received their gifts, the kids at the hospital had been eager to meet the man who made them, and Stiles was even more nervous about meeting them than he had been meeting Derek's family. He arrives with a few more toys in the hopes of bribing them into liking him, but they already love him because Derek likes him, and Stiles is pretty damn happy about that. They take the toys with eager smiles and wide eyes, looking amazed at the myriad of coloured eyes and animals he had made. They're not as precise with jumping or moving as his original three, but they don't seem to care, and Stiles spends the afternoon laughing and playing with his toys and delighted children.

When they get home that evening, Derek takes Stiles to bed, but they don't fuck hard and fast like has been the norm. That night is soft and sweet, certain and firm thrusts until Stiles breaks apart beneath him, Derek repairing him and making him whole again, until Stiles can return the favour.

They're both careful with their hearts, and they've been dating for almost eight months before Stiles can gather the courage to tell Derek that he loves him. Despite his worries and deliberations, the words come easier than he expected, waking to Derek's sleep-mussed hair and gentle smile.

"I love you, Derek," Stiles says, darting in to kiss him fast and firm.

"I love you, too, Stiles. 'Til the end of time," Derek adds, pulling him in close, face buried into the crook of his neck.

That sounds perfect to Stiles.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!


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